Calamity @ the Carwash (Parson's Cove Mysteries) (28 page)

    “I can’t see anything,” she said.
“So, did he poke your neck with his knife or not?”

“Well, not really. I think he tried to
but my feet were asleep so he had to hold me up and I guess it’s kind of hard
to slit someone’s throat and hold them up at the same time.”

Flori’s color changed from white to pink
and then back to white. “He tried to slit your throat?”

“No, Flori. You know Scooter; he’s a big
talker. I was a little nervous when he made me go up the stairs and said he’d
have the knife in my back though.”

“Oh my lord, what did you do?”

“There really wasn’t much to worry
about. Five cops were at the top of the stairs with guns pointed down at us. If
Scooter would’ve knifed me, five guns would have gone off and Scooter would be
plastered all over Krueger’s basement walls.”

“Oh Mabel, what a dreadful thing to say.
How can you be so blasé about the whole thing? He could’ve killed you. But what
I can’t understand is, why were you in Krueger’s house in the first place? And,
what on earth were you doing in the basement? Did Scooter force you to go down
there?”

“No, I was following Reg’s orders,
Flori. He wanted me to check out the house. I told you we were working together
to solve this murder, didn’t I?”

“Well, I’ll have Jake talk to Reg about
that. There’s no way he’s going to get you to go into dangerous places anymore.
He’s sending you in so he doesn’t have to go. And, sending a woman? That’s
plain sinful; that’s what it is.”

“No, Flori, whatever you do, don’t talk
to Jake. It’s no big deal. He didn’t send me in because I’m a woman. Now, I
want you to go home and go back to bed. Don’t forget, I have to go to work
tomorrow and I really need to sleep.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I am being selfish,
aren’t I? You’ve had a terrible day and I should let you sleep and recover.
I’ll bring a treat over to the shop in the morning to have with our coffee.”

“Thanks, Flori, you’re a sweetheart. I
knew you’d understand.”

She stood up. 

“We’ll discuss the gin in the morning
too.”

I didn’t reach for my gin and tonic
until after I heard Flori yell up that she was locking the door. I picked the
glass up and stared at it. There were about three swallows left. I looked down
at the floor. Nothing had spilled.

A slightly inebriated orange and white
cat sat looking up at me. She blinked several times, yawned, and without doing
her usual turnabout, sank to the floor. I wasn’t exactly sure what I should do
but since most drunks just need to sleep it off, I thought I’d give that a go.

I was too lazy to wash and refill my
drink so I put the glass on the table, shut the light off and listened to Daisy
snore until I fell asleep.

Chapter
Thirty Eight

Daisy was still snoring when a loud
crack on the window jolted me out of my sleep. It sounded like a shotgun going off.
I jumped out of bed making sure whoever was outside couldn’t see me as I inched
toward the window. I was about to peek around my curtain when there was another
sharp smacking sound on the glass. By now, I was awake enough to realize a
bullet would’ve went through the glass. I looked down below.

Charlie Thompson was standing below my
window, looking up. I opened the window.

“Charlie, what are you doing down
there?”

“You have to come, Mabel.”

I glanced at the clock. It was ten after
three.

“Couldn’t it wait until morning? I just
got to sleep.”

He shook his head. It was a good thing
that the moon was so bright because knowing Charlie, he might not speak again.

“Okay, wait there. I’ll be right down.”

I slipped my jeans over my nightgown and
shoved my feet into my runners. No socks and no underwear but who would see me
running around Parson's Cove at this time of night?

Three cats went out the door as soon as
I opened it and I did not intend to chase after them. I ran around the corner
of the house and almost knocked Charlie over.

“What’s the matter, Charlie? Don’t tell
me you found a body or something like that.”

Charlie didn’t say a word; he just took
off at a very brisk walk. With my short legs, I almost had to run to keep up.
Whatever was so important was down by the lake because that seemed to be where
we were heading. We reached the beach and he kept walking down towards his
house.

By this time, I was starting to huff and
puff. “Are we almost there?” I asked.

Charlie stopped so suddenly in front of
me that I smacked into him. He didn’t speak; just stood there, so I carefully
craned my neck around his body. Someone was sitting on the beach. I couldn’t
make out who it was until I heard the voice.

“Charlie,” I whispered. “That’s Murray
down there. He’s saying the Lord’s prayer. Why did you come to get me? Erma
should be with him.”

Charlie shook his head. “She wouldn’t
answer the door.” He turned to face me. “See if you can help, Mabel. He didn’t
do it.”

“He didn’t do what?” But it was too
late. As soon as Charlie uttered the last sentence, he disappeared up the bank
and was gone. I turned to face Murray, the moment Murray looked up and saw me.

“Mabel,” he said. “What are you doing
here?”

The moonlight was bright enough to show
the tears running down his face.

I walked up to him but cautiously
because I remembered our last encounter.

“Murray, I’m your friend. Charlie is,
too. He saw you down here and he was worried. He came to tell me because I’m
about the only friend he has. He didn’t know what else to do.”

Murray’s hand trembled as he wiped his
cheeks. He’d changed so much during the past few days that I might’ve walked by
him on the street and thought it was a stranger.

He looked very vulnerable so without any
thought of danger, I sat down beside him.

“What’s going on, my friend?” I said.
“You are not yourself. Erma is very worried about you.”

He looked over at me. “Erma isn’t
worried about me. She thinks that I killed Bernie.”

“No, I’m sure she doesn’t. She’s your
wife and she loves you, Murray. She got some pills from Fritzy to help you
sleep. I know she doesn’t think that you killed Bernie. Why would she think
that?”

“Because Bernie killed Biscuit so she
thinks I killed Bernie because of that.”

“Bernie killed Biscuit? Are you sure?
Why would he do that?”

Murray sighed and a few more tears
spilled out.

“On that day, Erma took Biscuit for a
walk. She never took him for a walk but she did that day. She was across from
Krueger’s old house when Biscuit ran after Bernie and started biting his shoes.
He pulled one right off his foot and started shaking it. Apparently, Bernie got
so mad that he ran and picked up a brick and hit Biscuit with it.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police this,
Murray?”

“Erma told me not to tell anyone. She
said that if I did, it would look very suspicious for me. I’d have the motive
and the brick was by my house. It’s the same brick that someone used to kill
Bernie.”

I patted him on the back. “Murray, no
one would suspect you. Besides, the police have to have proof. The cops from
the city are gone but I think, in the morning, you’d better go and have a talk
with Reg. You can’t go on like this; you’ll have some sort of breakdown.”

“I’m not having a breakdown. It’s those
pills Erma is giving me. I feel drugged all the time and feel like life isn’t
worth living. This is the first time in my life that I’ve ever had suicidal
thoughts.” He grabbed my hand. “This isn’t me. I felt bad about my dog but I
didn’t need all these drugs to cope.” His hand tightened on mine. “I mean it,
Mabel, it’s the pills.”

“When did Erma start giving them to
you?”

He rubbed his temple with his hands. “I
think it was before Biscuit was killed. First, she told me they were for my
allergies. Then, afterwards, she admitted that they were for my nerves. Then,
she said some were vitamins. She was afraid I’d crack up when I heard about
Biscuit so she made sure I took something before I found out.”

“Are you telling me that she ran over to
Doc’s clinic to get these pills before Biscuit was even dead?”

He looked confused. “I don’t understand
this. Why would she do that?”

I smiled at him. “Murray, Erma loves you
so much. I think she’s a little over-protective. You’ll have to forgive her for
that. If I were you, I’d go into your gazebo in the back yard and try to get
some sleep. You don’t want to disturb Erma, do you?”

He shook his head. “I won’t disturb
Erma; she took off earlier to go to visit her mother in Chicago.”

“Really? Well, you head right back to
bed then and don’t worry about anything. Everything will be sorted out in the
morning.”

A smile crossed his face. “Thanks. You
called me your friend, Mabel, and I know that you are.”

I don’t think I’m getting soft in my old
age but I couldn’t help wrapping my arms around Murray.

I watched for a few minutes to make sure
he was walking in the right direction and then I raced off to Doc Fritz’s
house. It must’ve been close to four by now but it didn’t matter anyway.

I think Fritz’ wife’s name is Gloria. I
should know it. I mean, we’re a small town where everyone knows everyone.
However, not that many people know Gloria. Patty, who publishes the Parson's
Cove Weekly, says she’s a recluse and not only that, a hoarder. Well, I don’t
believe everything Patty says but in this case, I do.

When they arrived about five years ago,
they bought the house closest to the hospital. At least, the closest one that
was for sale. It’s an old monstrosity of a place and every generation of kids
believes that it’s haunted. My generation included.

Since old emotions never seem to leave a
person entirely, I opened the gate and walked up the pathway with some
trepidation. The silver moon cast an eerie glow over everything. The house
stood towards the back of the street with large shade trees surrounding it. If
I heard any sound at all now, I would simply die from fright. I had too many
memories of going up this path on a dare and someone letting out a high-pitched
scream as I reached for the doorknob.

I picked up the doorknocker and rapped
the wooden door with it. I decided to keep this up until Fritz answered. After
banging it for at least twenty times, I decided to try something different. I
found the doorknob and turned it. The door opened.

“Fritzy,” I yelled into the darkness.
“Are you home?”

From somewhere within the house, I heard
the patter of feet and within seconds, the doctor stood staring at me. He moved
his hand and lights went on.

Doc Fritz stood before me in baby blue
pajamas with fuzzy blue slippers on his feet.

“Mabel,” he said, with a bewildered look
on his face, “What are you doing here?”

“Doc,” I said. “I apologize for waking
you up but this is very important. Did you give Erma McFerguson pills for
Murray? Do you remember? It’s important in solving a murder and I have to know
before the murderer disappears in the streets of Chicago.”

“Well, that does sound important. We
certainly wouldn’t want a murderer running loose in Chicago, would we? Miss
Wickles, I’ll have you know that I am not a pill pusher. I have never spoken to
Erma McFerguson nor have I prescribed any drugs for her husband. I have no idea
where you would get such an idea.”

“Thank you so much. You can go back to
bed now. I won’t bother you again.”

My next stop was Sheriff Smee’s house
and he was not as easy to awaken from sleep as Fritzy. Finally, after knocking,
ringing the bell at the front door and throwing stones at the windows, he came
to the door.

“Boy, Reg, if there were ever an
emergency around here, you are definitely the last person I would try to
contact. I’ve been standing here for at least ten minutes.”

“Actually, Mabel, I did hear you but I
thought it was just some punk kids playing pranks. Okay, so it’s you. What do
you want?”

“What do I want? I want to tell you who
killed Bernie Bernstein, that’s what I want to tell you.”

Chapter
Thirty Nine

Four days later, with a smile as wide as
the Mississippi in springtime, Sheriff Reg Smee entered my shop. It was 9:06 to
be exact. I know because I looked up at the clock wondering who was opening my
door so early in the morning.

“Well, Mabel,” he said. “The carwash
murder is all wrapped up! The mystery is solved; thanks to a very bright
amateur sleuth and a very discerning small town sheriff.”

I imagine my smile matched the sheriff’s
smile. “Sheriff, let’s celebrate with a cup of freshly brewed coffee and a
slightly stale apple muffin.”